


Not these stars

by somewhat_ethereal



Category: The Wicked Years Series - Gregory Maguire, Wicked - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 09:51:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3352208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somewhat_ethereal/pseuds/somewhat_ethereal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Grimmerie is more powerful than anyone knows and when, following the events of Wicked, Glinda receives the book from a boy named Liir she discovers that these powers can help her rewrite the past and reunite her with long lost friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The sound of the clock on the wall striking midnight was muted by the noise of the party still raging downstairs. It had been days and still the people of Oz still hadn't tired, every night in houses all across the city they celebrated the death of the Witch, but their joy over this loss of life was perverse and left a sour taste in Glinda's mouth. Her social position being what it was condemned her, to fail to hold a party of her own would have been suspicious, but that didn't mean she had to attend. The hostess made the rounds before feigning a headache and retiring for the night, with her practiced smiles and perfect manners, she left the bright young things of ozmapolitan society to their revelry. Her guests would not even think about leaving until the early hours of the morning, it wouldn't be fashionable.

That was what it came down to in the end, fashion. It was the lifeblood of the well dressed and well-bred of the Emerald City.

As Glinda gazed blankly into her own reflection in the mirror of her vanity, she considered what little depth she had beyond her appearance, so perfectly crafted for public consumption since birth. Primping and posturing was only necessary for a girl in her position, her family were only titled matrilineally, their wealth was nothing to boast of, and with no siblings their future was placed firmly on her shoulders. It was her responsibility to attract a man of acceptable wealth and title, ensuring that their social mobility was firmly upward facing. Fashion and popularity and the gifts that nature had given her, these were the tools of her trade. She shouldn't be as scornful of the things which had gotten her to where she was today, and yet it all seemed so meaningless now.

Her position as Throne Minister was a sham. It wasn't something that she had ever wanted; she had a complete lack of ambition and she'd never before had an interest in politics. With the Wizard gone there was a power void, she had the esteem of the public (her works of charity were lauded as near saintly by the middle and upper classes) and the backing of the bankers. It was as simple as that. She'd fallen into place and the people of Oz would have to make do with her for the interim. Eventually someone else would come along with more motivation than she'd ever had, but Glinda wasn't at all naïve enough to actually think that now the Wizard was gone so too was political corruption. For all she knew even now plans were being drawn against her. Perhaps they'd create another scapegoat, invent a Munchkin assassin to martyr her and unite the people against the recently seceded nation.

With her fingers twitching nervously she released her hair from its artistic updo in preparation for a night of uneasy sleep, attempting to push away these dark thoughts. Her maid fussed with the fastenings of the wedding cake of a dress, eager to get her job over with and - what with the intricacies of ladies clothing - Glinda couldn't even begin to blame her. She could only think of one brief fortnight in her entire life when she'd had to do this for herself. She remembered the frustration, how she'd cursed Elphaba for dragging her off without a word to traipse across the countryside like a nomad as she'd awkwardly fiddled with the buttons that ran down the back of her dress, and the confusing, shivering delight she'd felt as green fingers had traced her spine while attempting to help her. It was conciliatory gesture from her friend but it had meant much more to her than that.

She was only down to her chemise when she batted away the girl impatiently, wrapping herself in a long silk dressing gown, and without a thought about nosy revellers left her chambers to trawl through the upper levels of the house.

The boy had arrived earlier that day, looking less like a boy and more like a stray cat, unkempt and uncared for. Seeing him filled her with nostalgia though she'd never before met him in her life, it hadn't taken her long to realise how much he reminded her of Nessarose, but despite this resemblance to the younger Thropp daughter, he'd forced himself into the house with a stubbornness which was all Elphaba. It was one of those infectious traits of Elphie's, she encouraged in people the will to fight back, although there had never been a time when Glinda hadn't rivalled her pure pig-headedness with her own wilfulness.

Glinda tried her best to quell those sudden reminiscences and think more on the topic at hand; the boy. The boy – oh what was his name again, she could have sworn she knew it a moment ago - had brought with him a broom, a cloak and a book. All the possessions he owned in this world, each of which had once belonged to the woman he refused to believe was his mother. He'd taken two of these items away with him but she kept the Grimmerie, for reasons she couldn't quite explain even within her own mind. He'd said he had no use of it, and it had called out to her. Something told her that it was important and so she'd taken it off his hands. There was nothing he could do with it anyway.

This was what she told herself now, as she unlocked the door to the attic where the various items of furniture which had gone out of fashion were kept, readily awaiting to be brought downstairs again when they fell back into favour.

Amongst the wealthy nothing was ever thrown away, one never knew how something could come in handy later on. That was probably how Elphaba had come into possession of the Grimmerie, the boy had said it came from Kiamo Ko and no doubt it had belonged to the Tigelaar family for generations. Now she had it. She hid in her attic as the Tigelaar's had, but she did not intend to let it go to waste. It had power, power that she could use, possibly for good, although she hated using that word these days, she felt it was being thrown around far too loosely.

Glinda glanced towards the stairs she'd only moments before ascended, hoping that no one would come looking for her. It wouldn't do to have the Throne Minister found hiding in her attic while a party raged downstairs. Earlier that day she'd hidden the book within an old portmanteau containing the moth-eaten clothes of Chuffery's late father, she now retrieved it, careful not to disturb the rest of the bags contents. Sitting on a sheet-covered chair, she cradled the Grimmerie in her lap, running her fingertips over the embossed, leather-bound spine and the rough edges of its aged pages. To all outward appearances it was simply some sort of old encyclopaedia, but she could feel the magic within, pulsing beneath her fingertips. She'd read many magical books in her time, both at Shiz and during the interim, but none before had left her with the impression that something lived between the pages.

Her interest in Sorcery had never waned; she had simply put it on the back burner for a time until it could be of use, like this book and the many generations of Chuffery's family memorabilia. Now was as good a time as any to sweep away the cobwebs and try her hand at magic again.

Sentimental value, she told herself. It was the sentimental value which drove her to take this book and to lock herself up here with it. It was Elphie's, that's why it feels so important. She didn't want power, she had no dark purpose, she just wanted a keepsake of her friend. Glinda repeated this to herself until it sounded more convincing before flipping open the front cover.

The book was blank.

Flicking through the pages did nothing but provide an almost musical accompaniment to her frustration, she should have known that not everyone could read the Grimmerie. She felt inadequate again, like she was back at Shiz again. Elphie could read the book, Elphie could do almost everything that she couldn't. Glinda groaned, closing her eyes and let her head fall forward into her hands.

There was a faint susurration and a light breeze cools her skin, disturbs her hair. The thought of someone discovering her with the book caused her eyes to snap open, but instead of being confronted by an interloping servant, Glinda found herself staring at the pages of the book as they turned of their own volition. After several moments it settled open at what appeared to be a random page. It remained blank for several long minutes, and in that time Glinda once again began to search for the source of the breeze, before ink blotches began to appear across the paper. It created disturbing patterns and pictures which disappeared after a moment, until eventually they settled into the glyphs of some unknown language. She couldn't read it, she didn't know the words or letters meant individually but she was somehow aware of what it meant.

_A spell for rewriting the past, present and future._

Almost the second she read it, Glinda slammed the book closed and locked it away again. Hurrying back to her room she didn't care who saw her in such a state of distress, she had to get away from that book. She put herself to bed and laid there for hours, sleepless and agitated. Time manipulation, she must have read hundreds of theories on the subject but never before had she seen an actual spell. It confused her but the cause of her anxiety was the fact that the Grimmerie had chosen that, of all spells, to reveal to her. It knew what she wanted before she did herself.


	2. Chapter One

For one crushing moment Glinda could perceive the millions of moments in her life all at once. She felt as if she were experiencing an entire lifetime in a single moment, it was unbearable and indeed if she'd been forced to hold this lifetime in her head for a minute longer she was sure she would have gone quite insane. Images, sounds, and smells appeared and were replaced within milliseconds before suddenly it all stopped. Everything was dark and for one moment she was struck with the paralysing fear that she'd botched the spell and brought all of creation to an end, but then immediately felt quite ridiculous as she realised her eyes were simply closed.

Once she became aware of this, Glinda promptly rectified the situation, only to be struck dumb by what she saw. The room was as she remembered it, or rather it was close to what her memory had managed to preserve as the details had become faded over the years. For instance, she had not remembered how the desks were made up, one neatly arranged to look more like a vanity and the other littered with books, pens, and papers, nor had she remembered the fact their beds had scarcely two feet between them. It had always felt like a greater distance. She was simply too astounded to be actually here to pay much heed of the rooms other occupants at first, but she was quickly reminded of their presence and her purpose as Ama Clutch rose from the chair by the fire reaching out to pull the drapes closed.

"Well there's the lights on, Doctor Goat is at it agai-"

"Oh!" Glinda interjected suddenly, tearing herself from the bed and pulling on a pea coat over her nightgown. She was reminded of the reason she'd chosen this night over all the others for her to return to, admittedly it appeared the spell had cut time a little close for comfort. "I left my… purse in one of my classrooms, I'd better get it. I'll be back in a moment." She stuffed her feet into a pair of slippers and, seeing the Grimmerie, shrunken to the size of a small novel (as it was prone to doing when it wanted it to remain inconspicuous), on the bedside table, surreptitiously slipped it and the 'missing' purse into her pockets before turning towards the door. It was strange to see things which were so familiar but she that hadn't seen in such a long time, it left her feelings strangely distanced from her actions, as if she were puppeteering her body from above not residing within it.

"Don't you think it's a little late to go gallivanting? It's almost curfew."

Elphaba's voice made her freeze. The painful recollection of their last meeting hit her with full force, the sting of rejection and grief swirling in her chest before she choked the life out of it, reminding herself that she was changing things now. "I'll be fine. I don't want someone else finding it before I can," she replied, glancing over her shoulder to give her friend a reassuring smile before all but running out of the room.

The second she was out of the main doors of Crage Hall Glinda took off at a sprint across campus, ignoring the assault of rain and wind in her desperation. She couldn't remember a time in her life when she'd run this fast or this far, and as her breathing came heavier and a ripping pain erupted in her side, she promised herself she'd never have to do something like this again. The shoes she was wearing weren't at all appropriate she realised as she slipped through puddles and patches of moss, their grip was minimal and the material allowed more water through than it kept out. She couldn't help but scold herself for not planning more thoroughly even though she'd prepared for months before choosing to actually cast the spell. She'd chosen this night very specifically. Glinda had figured, after weeks of careful deliberation, that the deaths of Dr Dillamond and Ama Clutch were what had changed the dynamic at the school so drastically. It had brought about melancholy in her and radicalism in Elphaba, not to mention their deaths had meant the arrival of Nanny and Nessarose, and perhaps in this new version of reality Glinda wanted more time with Elphaba to herself.

By the time she stumbled through the side door of the sciences building she was soaked to the skin and freezing cold, but that didn't stop her from continuing her sprint to Dr Dillamond's laboratory. She crashed, quite embarrassingly, into the door before opening it and finding the Goat peering into a magnifying glass with his hooves propping him up against the edge of the workbench.

"Miss Glinda," he began but, before he had the chance to say another word, Grommetik (if memory served, that was the name of the terrifying tiktok machine) came through the door at the other end of the long room, clutching a knife which glinted menacingly in the light of the gas lamps.

Without any real thought or intent Glinda threw out her hand, as if the universal gesture to stop would do anything to change the directive of the machine. Words, harsh and unfamiliar, burned like bile in her throat, seeming to come without her conscious bidding and with little intervention from her lungs or larynx. The spell cast itself without her consent, throwing itself across the room and stopping Grommetik in its tracks.

"What on earth is going on?!" the Goat exclaimed, his hooves scattering across the hard-wood floor making a cacophony of noise that Glinda was sure they could hear across campus, as she attempted to put as much distance between himself and the contraption.

"Stop moving you old fool, do you want everyone to hear?" she hissed, holding herself upright against the table with shaking legs. The air burned in her lungs and down her throat as she took short staccato breaths trying to regain her strength after expending so much energy on magic and physical exercise. Glinda blinked away the sparks in her eyes, stumbling across to the Goat to physically silence his bleating if necessary. "Dr Dillamond, an attempt has been made on your life and yet you seem to want to make the mastermind of this plot aware of your survival."

_That seems to have shut him up,_ she thought smugly as she approached the humanoid automaton. Glinda watched for several moments in quiet contemplation as the lenses which acted as its eyes rolled about in its head trying to catch a glimpse of the room's occupants; finally she retrieved the Grimmerie from her pocket and, holding it open between her hands, let her thoughts direct her to an appropriate spell. The books pages flipped of their own accord, bringing a guttural noise of alarm from the professor, before settling open at a spell to create artificial memories.

"This should do nicely. We shan't be having you report back to Horrible Morrible about this shall we?" Glinda spoke sweetly to Grommetik before placing the palm of one hand against the cool metal and reciting the words from the page. Before long the machine had shaken its great bulbous head, turned around and trundled away without a care in the world, still clutching the knife in one animatronic hand.

"W-what is going on here?!" Dr Dillamond exclaimed the moment Grommetik was out of earshot. He was shuddering and his ears were twitching, the poor Goat was clearly a nervous wreck. "E-explain yourself at once!"

"Doctor, please, take a moment to gather yourself. I understand that this is quite the stressful situation but there's really no need for hysterics," Glinda said with a patronising smile.

"Hysterics?!" Dillamond bleated, looking thoroughly affronted. Glinda noted that, for a Goat, his face was really rather expressive. "Miss Glinda, this behaviour is completely inappropriate and if you don't let me know what's going on right away I shall have to- I shall have to-"

"Oh dear Doctor, please excuse my moment of impoliteness. I believe I lost complete control for a moment, really that's what all this excitement will do to a girl." Glinda immediately batted her eyelashes and pouted her lips, hoping to pacify Dillamond enough that she could get him to safety before Morrible came to check why Grommetik hadn't finished the job. "Doctor it's not safe for you at Shiz anymore, I overheard Madame Morrible earlier today telling the University's Bursar that she'd received a direct order from The Wizard himself that all Animals in positions of authority must be terminated. I couldn't let it happen and I came to warn you, it appears as though I arrived just in time. Now please, if you could pack what you can and follow me, we'll head to an Inn and talk all this through shall we?"

With a nervous glance to the door through which the machine had only moments earlier departed, Dr Dillamond nodded and the rest of the evening progressed as Glinda had intended.

* * *

It was early morning, the rain had stopped and the sun was just breaking over the horizon by the time she returned to Crage Hall, to find the find door obscured by a blush of boys from the nearby college, inside the building was similarly packed with students she discovered once she pushed her way through, ignoring the disapproving looks being cast her way for her dishevelled state. The murmurings were that someone had taken ill very suddenly but they were not specific as to who it was. Glinda cast her mind back, trying to remember anyone being hurt in the past- present- whatever was the appropriate tense. She became more frantic the closer she got to her room and the thicker the press of people.

"Galinda!"

She looked up, over the sea of heads, to see a familiar face staring at her with concern etched in its hawk-like features. "Elphie? What's going on?" She said, elbowing her way between several girls she vaguely recognised until she finally reached her roommate.

"Oz, Galinda, you're soaked!" the green girl exclaimed, shying away from her roommate even as she moved to position herself protectively between the girl and the open door to their room. "Stay away."

"It's only water" she began, but was quickly cut off by a burly orderly who's rumbling voice cut through the noise of the crowd and bid the students clear the halls as Ama Clutch was carried out on a stretcher, her face twisted and eyes vacant.

"Ama?" Glinda whimpered, reaching out for the woman who had raised her. She felt shocked, scared, and guilty. She hadn't anticipated this. She had presumed that in saving Doctor Dillamond she would have saved her Ama as well. Wasn't Madame Morrible responsible for all this? Hadn't Ama Clutch's sudden illness been brought on by some spell of Morrible's in revenge for discovering the truth of Doctor Dillamond's murder? Apparently not.

"Galinda, don't look," Elphaba said gently, reaching out as if to pat her roommates shoulder but stopping at the last second when she noticed the beats of water which still clung to the other girl's skin and clothes. "Come now, let's get you dried and dressed and we'll meet them at the infirmary."

Glinda nodded silently, following Elphaba into their room listlessly. She was in shock, going about peeling her coat off her body and shuddering as she suddenly became aware of just how cold it was. The coat had done nothing to spare her from the tyranny of the elements, having soaked right through the thick material and into her silk nightdress. She was covered in goose bumps and violently shivering from the cold but still the first thing she did was wrestle the book from her coat pocket. Almost the moment she did so Elphaba appeared 3 inches from her right shoulder making her squeak with surprise before grabbing the towel from her friend's hands with a hurried thanks.

Glinda turned her back on her roommate, being sure to obscure her view of the Grimmerie with her body as she checked that it for water damage, however Elphaba was far from paying attention to what she had in her hands, preoccupied by the sight of translucent, wet silk sticking like a second skin to Glinda's back and backside. She knew better than to stare, but everyone had moments of weakness from time to time even the Thropp Third Descending. Elphaba came to terms with this very easily and didn't look away as the blonde bent forward to remove her now ruined slippers.

Meanwhile, Glinda clutched the Grimmerie to her chest deliberating over when would be the best time to tell the other girl about Dr Dillamond's disappearance. She glanced over her shoulder expecting to find Elphaba staring pensively into space as she had a tendency to do when not reading or engaging in conversation, but was (pleasantly) surprised to find the green girls eyes glued to her body. She blushed, turning around and pretending to have not caught on while she tried to regain composure. She'd almost forgotten about this, the way that occasionally Elphaba would unashamedly stare. It had been a source of some confusion and excitement the first time around but now, since she was no longer for the most part innocent and unaware of her feelings, she was left quivering not only with the cold but also anticipation. A tingling sensation spread across her skin and she bit her lip, trying to suppress any physical reaction to the feeling of eyes on her and simultaneously chastise herself. She was no blushing schoolgirl, she tried to insist, but a treacherous voice spoke up reminding her that she was in the body of her younger self with all the hormones and feelings that came along with being a teenager. Glinda shuddered, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the possibilities this fresh start afforded her.

She indulged these thoughts briefly before shaking her head, reminding herself of her true purpose, and clearing her throat.

"I saw your Dr Dillamond by the gate last night. He seemed oddly pleased to see me, babbled on about being relieved to not have post this letter and gave it to me with the strict instructions that I must deliver it the very moment I saw you," she said, pulling the letter from between the pages of the Grimmerie and turning around to hold it out for the green girl to take. Her delivery of the act was impeccable, after all so many years of living and working with politicians had meant she had no choice but to perfect the art of lying.

Elphaba didn't say a word in reply, neither to suggest she suspected nor accepted what Glinda had said, simply snatching the letter and tearing through the envelope to find the several pages enclosed within. Glinda watched as the green girl's brow furrowed and eyes skimmed back and forth trying to decipher the almost illegible writing. God only knew it'd been difficult enough just watching the old Goat write the thing, the paper lying on the floor and the pen clenched between his teeth.

"What does it say?" Glinda asked the obligatory question, being sure to sound genuinely curious though she had sat half the night through in a dingy back-alley Inn discussing the letters contents with its author.

The other woman was silent for several long minutes, staring at the pages and turning them over and over as if expecting to find some more where there was none. She clutched the parchment between her hands as she spoke. "He writes that it is no longer safe for him to teach, that he had to leave for the sake of his life, and that he has taken his research with him. He hopes that we will meet again one day and work together to give Animals the rights they deserve."

"Does he say where he'll be going?"

"He does not."

"Do you think he'll be safe?"

"I don't know."

"Do you know who will be tea-"

"Galinda," Elphaba interrupted, holding one hand up as if to cease the inquisition physically. "I only know as much as is written in this letter. I will give it to you to read for yourself since Dr Dillamond trusted you, as is evidenced by his choosing you to play messenger. But right now I think it's more important that you get dressed and we head over to the infirmary."

"Oh, yes of course," Glinda said with a small nod, her face breaking from the perfectly organised expression of curiosity to a genuine look of hurt. Ama Clutch was dying again and she had yet to figure out what had gone wrong.

"She had a stroke, I think," Elphaba began, sitting on the edge of her bed but not bothering to look away as Glinda struggled to hold the towel and peal the silk from her skin at the same time. "She was about to go out and look for you, she said 'It's far too late for Galinda to be out alone, I swear you girls will be the death of me' her voice was slurred like she'd been drinking, and the next thing I knew she was passed out. I called for help right away but, I couldn't leave her to look for you."

"Thank you Elphie, for staying with her, it was better than her having neither of us close by at a time like that," Glinda spoke, her voice breaking and tears burning her eyes. Glinda thought she'd cried all the tears she could cry for her Ama but clearly this was not the case. Biting her lip hard and trying desperately not to blame herself for the instances of Ama Clutch's illness, Glinda removed her clothes and brusquely began rubbing herself down. Hoping to both dry herself and encourage some sort of warmth from the friction, it didn't work. Wrapped in nothing but the towel, with her hair only partially dried Glinda collapsed into the armchair where only hours earlier Ama Cutch had been darning socks and wept.

* * *

They spent the morning with Ama Clutch, watching her do nothing but breathe the gentle, deep breaths of those neither fully alive nor dead. It chilled Glinda's soul to relive this horrible moment in her life, leaving her feeling drained and pessimistic about the entire endeavour. The elderly woman was small, cold and fragile in the hospital bed, so different from the warm, soft presence Glinda's memories had preserved and it only reminded her of the harsh reality of mortality. That everyone she loved would die no matter what she did. She was at war within herself, the cynicism brought about at her failure to save the woman making her fear how well her plan could go. Only looking at Elphaba gave her the courage to keep on her path to give her all to give those people a life they deserved now that she had the power to do so.

Eventually their quiet vigil at the woman's bedside was interrupted by a suspicious Madame Morrible, no doubt on edge after having found her plan to get rid of Doctor Dillamond thwarted by the Goat having fled Shiz in the early hours.

"Miss Galinda, Miss Elphaba, I came the very moment I heard," she blustered, shuffling into the room in that pantomime manner she had. She was so ridiculous looking with her gaudy jewellery, her ruffled, multi-coloured dress and her bouffant hair that one could almost forget just how dangerous she was. It was all a show; Glinda understood that, she was one of the players also. "Poor dear Ama Clutch, a stroke, we can only hope that when or if she wakes up there is no lasting mental issues. You poor dears, what are we going to do with you?"

"Do with us, Madame?" Elphaba asked looking, as always, positively sickened by the woman's very presence.

"Well you can't be left without a chaperone can you? I'm afraid we shall have to be moving you into the dormitories after all," the Headmistress said, though her tone was far from conciliatory and closer to gloating.

"There's no need," the green girl replied, her eyes flickering towards Glinda as her thoughts ran a mile a minute trying to come up with a solution which would not require their exodus from their room. She knew that if Glinda were feeling herself she would protest, but as the girl was clearly in too much shock from the recent circumstances it was up to Elphaba to act in her stead. "If a chaperone is all that is required I have one whom I can call upon, she may be here within the month."

"You have an Ama, Miss Elphaba? Why then may I ask did you burden yourself upon dear Ama Clutch all this time?"

"Not an Ama Madame, but my sister's carer. Nanny will be happy to come to Shiz a year early, that is, if Nessarose may come also?"

Madame Morrible appeared to consider this for several long moments, her face set into a most unattractive expression as she realised there was no plausible reason that she could refuse this request except for out of sheer spitefulness. "I will send a letter enquiring whether or not this is the case, but understand if your Nanny refuses you will both be sent to the dormitories," she said plainly, turning from the bed and focusing all her attention upon Glinda. "Miss Galinda, I understand you weren't there last night when Ama Clutch took ill, do you have an explanation for your breaking of curfew?"

"I left my purse in one of my classrooms," Glinda sniffled not looking up from her Ama's face as she was spoken too. "It seems so stupid now, I shouldn't have gone for such a petty thing, but how was I to know?"

Morrible was not entirely convinced, but then again, her understanding of Galina Upland was that such a vapid, materialistic girl would run off in search of a purse so late at night. "I don't see it fit to punish you, this situation is punishment enough but perhaps you can help me. Doctor Dillamond left Shiz rather abruptly last night, at around the same time your Ama took ill and you were off in search of your purse. I don't suppose you saw anything?"

Glinda judged the correct amount of time to consider this question before answering. "I don't believe I did, the campus was quite empty."

"I see," Morrible replied eyeing both of the girls suspiciously before heading for the door. "I insist both of you leave now, you should be in class. I'll make sure that any developments in Ama Clutch's condition are reported to you immediately, but be sure you aren't out of bed after curfew again, we certainly wouldn't wish any more tragedy befall you because you were out and about nosing into things that you shouldn't."

They were swept out of the room by Morrible's great glittering arms and Glinda was left to contemplate on the poorly veiled threat in their Headmistresses words, she'd always known that the woman was a menace but only now did she realise how dangerous it was to act blatantly in opposition to her will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a work of fan fiction using the characters of Gregory Maguire's 'The Wicked Years' series as well as the characters of L. Frank Baum's 'The Wizard of Oz' and sequels. I do not claim ownership of any of the characters or situations involved in this piece of work, this is simply a work of my imagination.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fan fiction using the characters of Gregory Maguire's 'The Wicked Years' series and of L. Frank Baum's 'The Wizard of Oz' and sequels. I do not claim ownership of any of the characters or situations involved in this piece of work, this is simply a work of my imagination.


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